


Alone

by Rachel74



Category: Alias Smith and Jones
Genre: Angst and Feels, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Original Character Death(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:08:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27477814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rachel74/pseuds/Rachel74
Summary: A hopefully better written repost.  What prompts Curry to go looking for Heyes after their separation? A Curry only story.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 12





	Alone

The Kid was sat at the bar nursing a drink enjoying how the cool liquid was washing away the trail dust that coated his mouth, when a young man, probably about his age, full of foolish bravado and pointless noise deliberately stood too close. With his friends egging him on he'd soon made it impossible for Curry to refuse the challenge he'd thrown out.

So here they were, staring at each other across a dusty square as most of the small community watched in breathless, bloodthirsty excitement. The Kid wasn't even sure of the name of the town let alone the identity of man challenging him. He caught snatches of conversation around him and felt an edge of anger at the unthinking words.

“Ya don't expect someone looking as young as him to be so deadly. Just shows how you can't trust what people look like.”

“Well you can see he's a killer, just look at those eyes.”

The words faded as he cut off his awareness of anything but the man he was facing. He was concentrating so hard that he both felt and saw the moment when his opponent was about to draw. Firing off a single shot he winged him and then watched as he hit the floor holding his shoulder and groaning. The sudden eerie silence that had followed the crack of the shot broke and people ran over to the fallen man. 

Curry twirled his gun back into his holster, waited for a few moments until he was sure that the crisis was over, then walked slowly but purposefully to where his horse was tied up. He took deep breaths as he tried to clear his head and control the tremors that always followed the sudden release of tension. As his focus returned to normal, the hum of voices around him re-entered his consciousness.

“He missed, guess he ain't as accurate as they say, but he's mighty fast.”

“Weren't as impressive as his reputation suggests.”

Curry clenched his jaw as he mounted his horse carefully, still trying to control his slightly trembling leg muscles. He was glad this penny-ante dust bowl of a town had no law. It meant he could escape quickly to some-place where he might be able to remember that he wasn't just Kid Curry, gunslinger.

“Thank-you son, for not killing my boy. We ain't got much so he thinks he got to be a big man. He ain't always easy to get along with but he's all I got left.”

At the quiet tremulous voice, Curry looked down into the warm brown eyes of a worn but still pretty woman. She managed a weak watery smile as she met his gaze and strangely grateful he found a smile for her as he replied. “Whatever people believe I ain't fond of killing, especially when it ain't needed to make the point. He'll heal soon enough, but maybe the pain will remind him to...” Curry stopped what he was about to say, feeling he had no right to lecture the mother of a man he'd just shot. He tipped his hat in farewell and without a backward glance headed out of the town.

Far away from the scattered settlements, close to a babbling creek and hopefully well sheltered from whatever dangers the night might threaten, Jed tried to remember his life before everything had changed. The memories remained out of reach today, blocked too strongly by the heavy shadows of things he had tried very hard to forget and the far too vivid sense that his family would hate what he was becoming.

Curry cleaned his gun before eating a meal of rabbit, beans, undetermined vegetables and coffee. He shared it with a brave gopher who skittered away as soon as the food was gone, leaving him alone again. He stared into the settling dark his mind full and troubled. Eventually after a couple of lost hours, Curry settled down to sleep, hoping for some peace. But instead his dreams were filled with pain, fire scorched land, flying bullets and blood. These nightmares were chaotically interspersed with the bitter-sweet memory of warm brown eyes, mutual affection, good company and shared laughter.

Three nights of broken sleep left him lonely, on edge and bleary eyed with tiredness. Desperate for a break from his own company he decided to head into Brownridge Quarry, a small town only a short ride West.

As he entered the main street he noted the fresh looking Sheriff's office, the re-signed and brightly re-painted saloon and the newly constructed hotel. The rumours he'd heard about one of the railroad companies buying land out here to extend their route looked like they were true.

After tying up his horse and seeing to it that he had both water and grain, he headed into the saloon. He really needed a bath, but his funds wouldn't stretch that far if he wanted to eat. He was aware of the curious gazes that followed him as he took a place at the bar. The man serving eyed his tied down gun cautiously but his tone was friendly enough as he asked. “What'll it be stranger?”

“Just a beer thanks.“ 

The man handed him his drink and then returned to his wiping. Curry, grateful for his lack of interest leant against the bar so he was looking outwards. He took a sip of his beer savouring the soothing feel of the liquid on his dry throat. He finished his drink and ordered another, relieved that after the initial burst of interest the other patrons had returned to their own quiet conversation.

The peace didn't last long as a bunch of ranch hands came bursting in, making far more noise then they needed to. The relaxed atmosphere became tense and despite his best efforts The Kid's hand strayed automatically to hover close to his gun.

One of the rowdy crowd rolled up to order drinks and deliberately came close enough to jostle The Kid, causing him to spill some of his beer, which splashed onto the other man's sleeve.

“Hey Tom, ain't no need for that, he ain't doing no harm.” The bartender eyed them nervously as he brought a bottle out onto the bar with several glasses.

Tom stared at Curry with an unpleasant expression on his already crumpled face. “Well, his pretty face is causing me bellyache and he ain't too careful with his hands.”

Curry said calmly, but he knew not calmly enough to entirely mask his irritation, “Well I am sorry 'bout that, but if you just let me finish my drink, I'll take my face, my not very careful hands and everything else out of your way.” He knew he should have just let it be, but too little sleep had left him irritable and the idiot was annoying him.

“Well, boy, you do have a smart mouth. Can you back it up with your pretty gun?”

Curry held up his hands still holding his glass, in an attempt to prevent this getting out of hand “I don't want no trouble, let me buy you a drink and we'll start again.” The Kid really didn't want to have to shoot today, he was so tired he doubted his aim would be as straight as it needed to be.

Tom unfortunately wasn't going to back down an inch , “Look, sonny, this is my town. I don't like smart mouthed pretty boys with fancy guns. So I think we should take this outside. “

Curry glanced at the barkeep who shrugged a little apologetically but said nothing, obviously unwilling to get too involved. Everyone else except the man's friends were trying to ignore what was happening and Curry realised he was left with no alternative. Jed felt an impending sense of doom as he reluctantly finished his drink and put down his glass. He watched as Tom who was walking towards the exit paused as he passed his friends, grinning. He then continued towards the door exuding arrogant confidence.

One of his companions , his voice anxious called after him, “You know who that is Tom? It's Kid Curry.”

“Course I know who he is and he don't look nothin' special to me. “ Tom threw the retort over his shoulder as he headed out into the street.

Curry sighed threw some money on the bar and followed the idiot out. Just outside the saloon he tried again to get the man to back down, “Look, there ain't no need for this. Let me buy you a drink.”

“Nah sonny, I want to see how fast you really are. I think I got a chance of getting Kid Curry as a notch on my belt, so you can just stop trying to wriggle out of it or I'll just shoot you anyway."

The Kid sighed, indicated that he was ready and with Tom just in front, the two of them walked towards the central square.

A crowd had gathered, including a man who The Kid figured was the Sheriff flanked by two others, likely his deputies. Tom's friends had also spread themselves out amongst the watching townsfolk.

The Kid drew quickly, but the gun felt heavy in his hand and he knew as soon as he'd fired that his aim was off. His stomach knotted as the ranch hand fell and he closed his eyes briefly, well aware of what he'd done, even before he heard the startled gasp spread through the crowd. “He's killed him. Sheriff did you see that? He killed him. “

The murmuring became louder and angrier and before he could reach his horse he found himself slammed down into the hard ground breathless. The fists and feet when they came were solid and painful. He initially almost half-heartedly tried to defend himself but soon gave it up as an impossible task and just rolled with the blows as they landed with increasing speed and strength.

Eventually almost unconscious he was pulled halfway to his feet. He looked up and saw that one of the men holding him had a rope wound around his arm. He realised he was being dragged towards a small circle of trees in the main street and suddenly knew exactly what was planned for him. He struggled then, desperate to free himself, but the men restraining him held on too tightly and the pain was just too much and he couldn't get loose. A heavy thump across the back of his head left him stunned and unable to do much else except breathe. He sank into a sort of distant almost numb panic as the trees loomed closer. 

At the sound of shots from two different guns and shouted words that he couldn't fully grasp, Curry was dropped with a thump. As darkness started to spread over his vision he curled onto his side in an attempt to stay conscious. When after a couple of final hard kicks the men who'd beaten him retreated rapidly, Curry guessed the voice and at least one of the guns had belonged to the sheriff and allowed himself to feel some hope that he probably wouldn't die today. He closed his eyes to shut out the spinning world and lacking the strength to move waited helplessly to see what would happen next. After a few moments he was assailed by the heavy scent of leather, gun oil and stale cigar smoke, mixed with the musky smell of sweat and he reluctantly opened his eyes to squint at the slightly blurry figure leaning over him.

A voice came as if from a long way off, but Curry although dazed could still easily grasp the words being said, "I think it'd be best if you just git as I don't want no more trouble and you likely won't survive it. I saw him draw on you and the barkeep said he pushed ya, so I can't rightly keep you.“ The Sheriff's voice took on the tiniest hint of admiration as he added, “ I gotta say son, that was sure fancy shooting. Tom weren't no slouch and he didn't have a chance.”

Curry rolled painfully onto his back as his stomach rolled in protest. He fuzzily met the Sheriff's gaze and said bleakly. "Not fancy enough, seein' as he's dead. All I wanted was a drink and maybe some company.” He hated the catch in his voice but was powerless to disguise it, feeling too lost, weary and sore to pretend he didn't care that he'd just killed a man. 

The law-man's face suddenly softened and he offered his hands for The Kid to grab hold of. After a moment of surprise Curry accepted and managed to get to his feet, although he had some difficulty in standing straight.

The Sheriff murmured, “Foolish boy, you oughta find another way, you might have the skill, but you ain't got the nature.” The Kid still struggling with his balance, wasn't sure how to respond and was glad that the man didn't seem to expect a reply. 

The Sheriff with a resigned sigh, switched his hold to put a steadying arm round Curry's shoulders and steered him to to his horse. Curry dizzy and aching with a little help settled uncomfortably into his saddle. He was conscious of the Sheriff's gaze on his back as he rode slowly out of town, but did not look back.

Barely two miles out, pain and nausea forced him to a halt. He crouched painfully on the side of the trail, continuing to retch heavily for several minutes even after his stomach was empty. As he attempted to marshal his strength in order to continue, he found himself struggling against unwanted tears. He hadn't cried for years and wasn't intending to start again now. He eventually gained control of his emotions, but was left with a lingering desperate need for home, however hopeless that might be. Suddenly into the strange fogginess of his thoughts, came the crystal clear understanding of what his mind had been trying to tell him for weeks now- home meant only one person and it was past time he found him.


End file.
